Ruff Rhymes: Greatest Hits Collection

(hello)

I should diss you

[ verse 1 ]
Excuse me, lady, you're lookin real nice
Where you been, i been lookin for you all my life
So how's about lunch with a winner?
Then again it's kinda late, so what's up with dinner?
At my place or my place or my place or my place
By the fireplace or the candle light
About 7, or make that 8 o'clock tonight
Make up your mind, let's wine and dine
Get with me or back up off my line
Cause i can't wait for you to call me
You're steppin on your suit the very second you saw me
I thought you said that i'm the only one
That can send chills up and down your - ehm
Gold rings and estate, too
(hello, is this you?)
Man, i should diss you

Yo, i been waitin all night long
And you didn't even ring my phone
I should diss you

Since you tried to play me like booty
I just feel that it's my duty
I should diss you

So don't give me no excuse
But before i cut you loose
I should diss you

And there's nothin you can say
And there's nothin you can do
I'ma diss you
I'ma diss you

Diss you

[ verse 2 ]
You claimed you would stick like superglue
But you're low, down and dirty, so i'm dissin you
Yeah, i'm dissin you, i won't be missin you
I won't be kissin you, i hope you're listenin, too
Cause i realized that i'm real fly
So (see ya) later (bye)
Cause you only get one chance at this
You played me wrong, so i'ma diss you, miss
For the fact that you thought that i could get done
The k-i-n-g tee ain't the one
So miss me with all that stuff you're talkin
I know you're sorry, but keep on walkin
On about your business, i'm almost finished
Tyin up loose ends, and
Let the door hitcha where the dog should bitcha
Even though i should dissed you

I shoulda dissed you

[ verse 1 ]
It's friday night on the streets of l.a.
I'm goin out, been hangin round the house all day
So i take me a shower, dress like a big daddy
Stop at the arco, put some gas in my caddy
Armor on my wheels, shine up my daytons
Check my 12-gauge, i see jackers just waitin
Got in my car, rolled up the tinted glass
Looked for my zapp tape to pop in my dash
Can't find it, forget it, went under my seat
Found my old fired tape of the song "knee deep"
So i popped it in, then i pumped it up
Love hearin funk because disco sucks
Body got chills when the basses started poundin
I took off because i'm goin to town, and
Won't be back till mornin, don't have to go to school
(better get ready) i'm finna act a fool

[ verse 2 ]
Now i'm on the move, got a grand in my pocket
Reached for my phone, plugged it in the socket
Heard the dial tone, so i dialed up aladdin
He answered the phone and said "what's up?" i said "what's happenin"
He said, "where you been? i been tryin to get in touch
The party's in watts," i said, "i don't give a fuck"
"if you wanna go, just wear neutral colors
If anybody asks you, just tell em you're my brother"
Stopped at the store to buy me a cisco
A 40 ounce and some crackers by nabisco
[amount] and i pulled out a 10
And said, "fuck it, supersacco and gin
I'm finna act a fool"

[ verse 3 ]
Now i'm drivin down compton on my way to get aladdin
Feelin like a pimp till my tape started draggin
It's a old tape anyway, it ain't no thing
Pulled it out and slapped in dana dane
Got to aladdin's house and i honked my horn
He said, "when we comin back?" i said, "6 n tha morn"
So he got in the car, lookin half-dead
So i gave him my cisco and took the 40 to the head
Now i'm feelin tipsy, and i'm headed for watts
But wait, what do i see sittin at the bus stop?
Sexy susanna, had a butt that kills
Pretty long hair, but they say it's not real
Aladdin yelled (these fake or real?) she threw a rock in my glass
So i got out my car and drop-kicked her ass
I checked out my window, everything was cool
She was lucky i was nice and i didn't act a fool

[ verse 4 ]
We finally arrived at the party, drunk as a jerk
Got out my car, pressed the kit so the alarm, would chirp
After that we made our way, i tried not to fall
Couldn't walk a straight line if they let me crawl
Got to the door, and what spots my eye?
My homeboy mr. prince, and he's smokin some thai
So i stumbled his way and said, "hey, pass the jay"
I took a hit for my mouth spray
This girl asked me to dance, but i told the hoe no
Cause she was on my tip cause of my big gold rope
But it seems she got offended - that's splendid
Before she starts somethin, i just slap her and end it
Cause i feel like a gangster, and i just don't care
About a girl with fake drag, fake eyes, fake hair
Fake clothes, fake nails and all that fake jewelry
All she wanna do is tell her friends that she screwed me
I get nutty, act a fool when iiwant to
Run up when i'm drunk and i just might pump you
Take your car, your wife, keep talkin, your life
Beat you down and have you smokin the pipe
(you know why?) cause i'm cool

(well, kill me!
Shoot me, muthafucka!)
(i gotcha)
(oh goddamn)

Intro:

Ladies and gentleman, that nigga king tee and the al-cum-a-holiks

Verse one: j-ro

Pooh-butts play the rear cause i'm makin yapes
The rhymes ain't no thicker than a, skittle grapes
A lot of girls would like to thank me, for the hanky-panky
On the mic i hold a belt, now i know no one could spank me
It took a long time for the people, to hear my rhymes
Seems like i been rappin since my birth in '69
Sorry to keep you waitin, i run rhymes like walter payton
I get a rhyme like spokes on a dayton
But i won't knock off, because i just rock off
The beats to get funky, like when you take your sock off
To all the white folks i would like to say howdy
And to all my brothers i say peace quit actin rowdy
Wack mcs in ninety-two, ew you need to take a rest
The public don't you aim the best you're softer than a hookers chest
Raps, i make em, snaps, i make em
For duties movin booties cause i shake shake shake em
And i got rhymes, funky funky rhymes
E-swift hold the needle down with nickels and dimes
I drink olde english, st. ide's and mickeys
When it's time to roll i throw on my black dickeys
On the mic i get wicked, like wilson pickett
I get the place jumpin like a cricket when i kick shit
I'm from the west coast but don't sleep home-stimpy
Even if i was a paperboy you still couldn't rip me
I walk up and chalk up pairs like the knicks
I'm all in the mix like snares, and kicks
When it comes to rhymes i get loose like belt buckles
Those who chose to oppose this nose is felt knuckles

(where you goin' to?) to the tip
(and what cha bout to do?) bout to rip
Some people use the word funky too loosely
And just how many rappers say they kick it like bruce lee
(what's your favorite brew?) olde e
(and what it make you do?) go pee
It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
I got it bad y'all, i got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
I got it bad y'all, i got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all

Verse two: e-swift

Back the fuck up, gimme room to breath
Not too many niggaz can flip the rhymes like these
I freak the technique as if it was a bitch
Got more soul than the pit with a fifth
Pitch the ball, so i can beat it with the bat
Talk some shit, so i can smoke ya with my gat
I'm feelin kind feelin kinda feelin kinda feelin kinda
Feelin kinda buzzed off a sack of chocolate tie
My my my ho, i like to rip the shows up
Smack the hoes that walk around with they nose up
Run to the liquor store, before they close up
Buy a few 40s, cause daily i get to' up
Sit at the crib and write riggy riggy rhymes
Line after line after liggy liggy line
Yo i can get funky, buy my tape and bump me
To the break of dawn i hit the bud and pass it on
Hangin at the park, shootin craps on the weekend
My brown bag is wet cause my tall can is leakin
Starin at the cops, beatin up on rodney
While a pack of o.g.'s steppin to me tryin to rob me
Just because i'm dope, niggaz wanna smoke me
On the mic i get funky while you're doin the hokey-pokey
Dance steps, i think that you should leave to paula
Alkaholiks is the shit, e-swift's the smooth bawler
Is slangin these rhymes like a rock
Life ain't shit but money and a glock
Don't punch a clock, but i cock a fat knot
So i can smoke a lot of pot that i roll up with tops
And ya ain't heard shit yet, i'm just gettin warm
Like hot butter on, say what?, the popcorn
I'm headed to the top, please give me my props
My beats are fat as fuck so bump my shit in your box
I love to hit the skinz, but then again who doesn't
I love to hit the herbs cause it leave me feelin buzzin
I dedicate this chumpie to the poets who can wreck
And to all the nottie dreads i gots to give them nuff respect

(where you goin' to?) to the tip
(and what cha bout to do?) bout to rip
Some people use the word funky too loosely
And just how many niggaz say they kick it like bruce lee
(what's your favorite brew?) olde e
(and what it make you do?) go pee
It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
I got it bad y'all, i got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
I got it bad y'all, i got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all

Verse three: king tee

Up jumps the man with the loot
Rockin like a troop with the alkaholik group
Everything is kosher, got a little taller
Livin kinda phat cause king tee's a bawler
I just, irritate the wack, leave em so confused
When i'm checkin on the mic with the ones and twos
Sneak you a peek of the drunk technique
Can't stand up, need to take a seat
Baby baby baby it's the alkaholiks
But i can freak the mic no matter how ya call it
Metaphors grand, and i'm the great man
Drink a whole fifth yes i can yes i can can
The girls call me dick-em-down
Got that title rockin for the crown
Catch y'all later, around next weekend
I'm a alkaholik and i'm late for my meeting

.. "it's the joint!"

[king tee]
Yo whassup, it's king tee on the vocals
I rock the coolest rhymes, from here to acapulco
I drive a cadillac, not a played out desoto
Look i'm fin' to pose, photographer take my photo
Cool is back, in fact i'm comin exact
It's mc breeze and king tee, and pooh on the track
So we all got together, and thought of a freestyle
Gather round the stage, and come see how
Pros go for what they know and get paid for it
And i brung along the breeze, so you can enjoy it
.. and to fans i'm an idol
It's me and breeze, "just clowning" is the title
Get up what's happening? i'm a king, not a captain
Do the most coolest rappin, talk smack i'll be gat'n
I'm the king tee punk, and i don't talk junk
But i do smoke blunt, love rappin to funk
You know the mic is like a vine i swing on it like tarzan
I drink a coke and hit a note like barbara streisand
Step up, fess up, stand around and
Get down to the song "just clowning"..

.. "it's the joint!" (repeat 4x)

[mc breeze]
Well i happen to be, hopin to be, a big-timer
A dope rhyme and you won't find a
Nother mc who can get with this program
Served by no one, i mean no man
You say i'm good it's the truth, you're not soupin
I take it as a compliment and keep troopin
Unlike most you know i never stop flowin
My name is mc breeze cause i'm the master at blowin
Rhymes and lyrics, that is my specialty
I'm high-fidelity, you can't mess with me
Don't even think you can just sneak up
On bein number one, is a high that i'm stuck on
I'm on a mission, wishin, all the time you spend
That you would make a legend or a monument
I'm not souped up, or a pooh-butt
I only lay my voice on a track that pooh cuts
A beat is like food for thought so i eat it
I'm feelin kinda hungry pooh so just feed it
Keep the bass poundin i like the way it's soundin
Pooh is gettin ill while me and tee are "just clowning"

.. "it's the joint!" (repeat 2x)

[king tee]
I've been rappin for a while, i'm acquirin chapstick
Like a magician with the mic i do a hat trick
I don't wear a cape, or perform at a sideshow
Let me hit the 40 cause my throat is kinda dry yo
When i'm on stage it's like a broadway play
King tee and mc breeze and jennifer holiday
But breeze, my throat's gettin so'
{*rasping*} get on the mic and won'tcha give it a go

[mc breeze]
Clowning, is like actin ill sometimes
But when i ill, i like to say a dumb rhyme
To increase my fame and star stature
I'm like anita baker i'm caught up in the "rapture"
Hittin like bolos when i go solo
Last name is spanish but yo, i'm not a cholo
Keep the bass poundin, i like the way it's soundin
Pooh is gettin ill while me and tee is "just clowning"

[king tee]
But but but breeze.. you know me and you can clown right, right?
We gotta see if.. mixmaster spade can do it

.. "it's the joint!"

[mixmaster spade]
Well it's tuesday night, i got nuttin to do
I guess i'll get on the phone and call dj pooh
Say "whassup pooh? are you beat?"
He say "forget that stuff, let's hit the street"
Since i got a caddy, and you got a z
I can roll witchu, or you can ride with me
I say "we goin to a club that's dynamite" (where?!)
The red onion on a tuesday night
I walked in and glanced, shook a few hands
Grabbed the baddest broad, then i commence to dance
I looked the dj, and said "whassup?"
He said "spade's in the place and he's +doin the butt+"
Now i'm back to the rap that we have at hand
I'm the mixmaster man with the master plan
I slapped the girl on the butt then she started to frown
And ..

[king tee]
Yo spade, cool out! man, we "just clowning"

.. "it's the joint!" (repeat 4x)

[ verse 1: king tee ]
They live on the street and they hustle for fame
Some kill for a livin, some sling cocaine
Because it's now a lifestyle and a full-time job
And if you live in compton, it's like at mccobb
From block to block everybody's bad
And if you don't know where you're at, then your life's been had
Cause they walk in the street with intentions to meet
Some sappy lookin punk with fila on his feet
And if you try to act tough, well mr. tough, you're through
Cause everybody's a family, if not, they're a crew
I'm here to give some advice advice (run!)
Cause if you're ever in compton, you better bring a gun

Yo, here come my homeboy mixmaster spade
Man, what's up, man?
Hey man, ain't you from compton, man?
(ah yeah)
Alright man, tell em what's up, man
What you used to do

[ verse 2: mixmaster spade ]
I used to cut up the beat on the two turntables
Now i'm rappin on the mic, cause i'm willin and able
When i'm on the mic i take no slack
And everytime that you see me i'm tearin a gat
I got .380s and .22s
You messs with me, i'm gonna bust on you
I got a .357 and a m-16
They call me master spade, and tee's the king
Now compton is the city where the homeboys stay
Rollin in a different car everyday
Can't roll too hard, gotta watch my back
Cause if i don't, i just might get jacked
Now compton is a city of a lotta fun
(can't walk down the street
(can't walk down the street
Can't walk down the stree without my gun)

[ female voice ]
Now you know this just don't make no kinda sense

[ verse 3: king tee ]
Now the next place is kinda risky if you're walkin with your mother
Y'all can get shot if she wears the wrong color
They're all from the old school, nobody's modern
The place i'm talkin 'bout is the nickerson gardens
You can get away with murder, cause they murdered the cops
Cause they said they tried to run a bumrush on watts
But they took control, slingers walk real tall
While real down gangbangers write their set on the wall
If i was you i wouldn't visit here, it's like hell
And if you get robbed, who you gonna tell?
I'm only here for advice advice (run!)
And if you're ever in watts, you better bring a gun

[ verse 4: king tee ]
Now you got a nice car with a brand-new paintin
Rag top convertable with all-gold daytons
You decide to take a ride down the crenshaw strip
You stop at the fat burgers to feed your lip
You got your sounds bumpin, playin zapp and vibe
A skeezer comes your way, you say, "let's take a ride"
So you're cruisin crenshaw with her, you're goin to bail
A brown cutlass pulls up, they put a gauge to your head
They say, "(get our your car) if you value your life
(and leave your money) if you love your wife"
Now you're standin in the street lookin like you're on crack
And you say to yourself: i can't believe i got jacked
You call the police because your car they stole
But when you get in touch with them, they put you on hold
Your car is gone, nothin could be done
So next time you cruise crenshaw, you better bring a gun!

Alright, i wanna thank mixmaster spade for comin out to rock with me
(and greg mack) the mack attack
And i also wanna thank j-ro and sweet tooth for comin out rockin
(and dj [name])
And i wanna thank scotty d, cold-crush chris
And dj pooh, the hip-hop gangster
(when he say beat em up he don't be bluffin)
Word
And oh yeah, i forgot somebody
Unknown!

(yo man
Who blew up that mcdonald's on central and rosecrans, du?)

[pooh]
Hey king tee since this beat is kinda rockin
I'ma let you rap and get the suckers cold clockin
So yo loc', hear the beat i'm displayin
(yep) but now - "listen to the gui-tar playin" {*e. sermon*}

"listen to the guitar playin" {*e. sermon*}
"one, two, three.."

[king tee]
Yo, now if you're hip to me, then i guess you heard "bass"
But i got another instrument to flaunt in your face
It's not a flute or a trumpet, don't beef cause you love it
A funky guitar rhythm that pooh sampled and cut it
So for those who really know what dope stuff sounds like
If it sounds good, sounds funky, or sounds hype
Put your ear to this and let me know what you think
Yo pooh, bust the guitar while i grab me a drink

"listen to the gui-tar playin" {*e. sermon*}
"listen to the gui-tar playin" {*e. sermon*}

[king tee]
Now to many people this tune is like fazin
Get the crowd dancin with the funkiest persuasion
Hypnotizin suckers with some personal-fication
Get the crowd movin (c'mon) motivation
See i'm like a symbol to mc's i'm a father
No wait, i'm a lyricist, better yet a saga
Enough about the king cause you know i get far
I played with the "bass" now i'm messin with the guitar
And the way that it sounds you say "shucks!"
It can't be real how the player just plucks
On the strings, it rings yo, it's like the funkiest rhythm
Pooh brings the drums with the sticks to hit 'em
It's not ballet jazz punk rock or swing it's dope
Rappin brought by the t apostrophe king
And if i was in school and this was an assignment
I wouldn't type it or write it i'd just rhyme it
Cause rhyme is what i like i got a metaphor background
A punk jumps up, i bust a verse, he sits back down
Huh - i wrote a epic, i hope you accept it
Fly stupid rhymes i composed and perfected
I'm down with some people that know what they're doin
Darryl and bobcat and dwayne and dj pooh
And keith cooley is cool see, i'm the coolest person
Somebody drop the guitar before i start cursin

"listen to the gui-tar playin" {*e. sermon*}
"listen to the gui-tar playin" {*e. sermon*}

[king tee]
So, as it looks, the people like it
The funky guitar tune that we ignited
Pooh, i mean really, suckers be stumblin
When they hear the funky guitar strummin
You know frankly, i think this cut is kinda musical
Just like my "bass" song, but don't get them confused though
The guitar gets your mind in the funky kind of state, huh
And my bass makes the walls shake (yeah)
Suckers can't come close with what i got goin
What i be doin, what i be showin
How i be conquerin and how i keep rulin
What makes the king tee stay so cool and
Where i get my fila's from, how i learned my slang
How could i afford such a big gold chain
And fly girlies tempt me when (?) wanna hit me
Why i drink brew til my body gets tipsy
To ask all the questions that i just spoke though
It's not magic or a hoax i'm just loco
I like bustin on the funky dope track
Smooth like t, mo' powerful than a gat
Now that you know what's goin around
(c'mon) here comes the funky breakdown

That's smooth man, that made me laugh at all these suckers man
You laughin too pooh? (ye-ye-yeah, hahahahaha)

"listen to the gui-tar playin" {*e. sermon*} (hahahahaha)
"listen to the gui-tar playin" {*e. sermon*} (hahahahaha)

Yo pooh, yo pooh, break it down for a minute
Let me talk to the party
Now yo, me and pooh is feelin real hot right now y'know
But we want y'all to know, that see, me and my crew
We from compton, y'all heard about compton? scratch compton
(compton!) aight, see that's where we from (compton!)

.. it's at your own {*repeating, getting louder*}
.. it's at your own .. it's at your own
.. it's at your own .. it's at your own
.. it's at your own risk sucker!

Yo! whassup? yo.. what's happenin, what's happenin?
E-swift, you cuttin the records nice boy
Dj pooh whassup man? we all chillin
Yo, yo, j-ro's in the house, we all cold coolin out y'knahmsayin?
And i'ma bust it off like this for compton

Well - look who sprung up, comin the fuck up
I came in the place to let you know what's up
With a bunch of trunk jewerly
Two or three fat gold chains, ring plates with my name on 'em
Yeah i rhyme fly, real fly hobbes
I wear nike's cause i run from the cops
Pops taught me lots he said "toys are for tots"
At four, bought me a box, when i was six i wore a jock
Cause, my jimmy was gettin kinda big
At nine i was a kid but i took my first swig
Hugged that olde english beer
So my peers wouldn't think that i was queer
Yeah, right off i got the title of a gangsta
Pranksters run because they know that there ain't a
Person, runnin a verse on like this, hahahaha..
Whassup? this at your own risk, sucker

Uhh! this at your own risk, sucker..
P-puh, puh-p-puh-p-puh-pooh man fuck it!

People always say, "are you the king of the west?"
But there's always some pest who try to put you to the test
Even though, they know i'm king, i'm on a higher level
I even dust the church and sold they soul to the devil
I mean really, how you think i'm livin?
On the strength i'm livin like it's thanksgiving
So yo, whassup turkey, tryin to jerk me?
Your rhymes don't work see, you can't hurt t
The almighty individual
You said you knew, but i don't think you really know
About the k-i-n-g super cool mack daddy
I drive a caddy, and i'm livin fatly
Had me on stage in a rage
Yellin was what ya know, that's how i get paid
Made my mark but rappers still insist, to diss
But yo it's at your own risk sucker

Sup? it's at your own risk
Aiyyo, e-swift, bust the break

Verse three is another one for those to remember
King tee is the champ, smashin all contenders
For those who disbelieve, just step in my direction
I'm snappin arms, legs and even necks and
Suckers who thrive to drive me crazy
You know the ones who front tryin to amaze me
Take it as a warnin cause i'm hopin that you don't diss
But get a load of this, it's at your own risk, sucker!

Yo, it's all about me and dj pooh and e-swift
Rockin the house, y'knowhati'msayin?
We got walkman in the house
We got j-ro in the house
We got (??).. {*echoes*}
Y'knowhati'msayin we cold chillin y'know
I wanna send this record out, to the piano man
Piano man, won't you play somethin for me
Aight, get busy, right here, c'mon c'mon
Get funky, get, get funky, c'mon c'mon
Get funky ass oh, ohh yeah
Get funky, aww ooooooh shit!
It's at your own risk suckers, knowhati'msayin?
Yeah, e-swift, scratch that in
Awwww yeah..
Aww you're doggin it man, y'knowhati'msayin?
See ya!